


7 Minutes in Heaven

by dljensengirl88



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dljensengirl88/pseuds/dljensengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was tired and just wanted to go home. Wish granted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am picking up from where I left off in my very first piece, [Objects Are Heavier than They Appear](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2332034). I wasn't looking to do that, but that's what happened. But you don't need to have read that first in order for this to make sense. Hope you enjoy!

Nia was just what the doctor ordered. After yet another fight for his life with yet another righteous entity, Dean needed the kind of quality time found in the arms of a beautiful, willing woman. Usually when these deadly deals go down, the damsel gets forgotten on the sidelines and even if Dean wanted to make good on whatever temporary promises he whispered in their ear, there would rarely be someone to go back to. But Nia had worried about him when he didn’t show for their rendezvous. She didn’t know what to think when Sam arrived instead looking even more worried. So when Dean called, Nia was quick to answer and so glad to know he was ok that she wasn’t even looking for an explanation; just him in her bed for as long as she could have him. Nia was just the right mix of listener and lover, not too much of the first, of course, but just enough mental connection to make the physical that much more satisfying. Dean could see himself spending more time with her, if he allowed himself that kind of comfort anymore – which he didn’t. Because it was just too dangerous for the woman of the moment and too taxing on his heart.

Dean could have stayed the night with Nia, but he figured why prolong the inevitable. When she fell asleep, he wrote her a note of thanks, apologizing for not being the kind to stay the night, but promising if he’s ever in town again…. Hopefully that would suffice. Dean made his way quickly back to the room he shared with Sam, the sky still an onyx cover overhead as morning remained a couple of hours away. Nia lived within the downtown area, so his walk was blissfully short. He and Nia had performed a few tricks to impress each other, accenting those acrobatics with the various drinks she concocted to help further lower their inhibitions. Now the expended energy was starting to wear on his battery.

The hotel room was quiet and dark. Dean could make out Sam’s considerable shape on the bed ahead of him and from the sound of it, Sam would not be easily awakened. Closing the door gently, Dean moved deftly but quietly to the table as he removed his jacket and tossed it on the chair. Sam shifted in his sleep as he did so, causing Dean to freeze mid-step. The drinks from earlier made it a little hard to keep his balance, but Sam adjusted quickly and Dean was able to catch himself before he crash landed on the floor.

Despite the cleansing nature of sex and libations, Dean found himself nursing a headache as he came back to the room, so now was a good time to find an aspirin before he fell into bed, clothes and all. He remembered who had the aspirin last and of course it would be Sam’s duffle that he’d need to rifle through to find them. Heading back toward his brother’s side of the room, Dean shakily tip-toed to the other side of Sam’s bed. Thankfully, Sam was facing the other way, which should make it easier to slip in and out of the bag undetected.

Spotting the lumpy bag, Dean kneeled down to drag it toward the foot of the bed, peeking up to keep an eye on his brother’s movements. Sam continued to snore, the rhythm as steady as Dean heard when he first entered the room. He moved the bag slowly at first, in case something inside shifted. And once he felt confident that the bag would not betray his position, he slipped it quickly toward himself, reaching in to find the bottle while keeping his eye on Sam. He knew Sam normally kept items like aspirin inside a smaller travel bag and Dean blessed his luck that it was relatively close to the top, most likely because Sam had used it right before turning in.

Pulling out the travel bag, Dean alternated between watching Sam and trying to visually locate the desired aspirin so he wouldn’t have to make too much noise rifling through. He spotted the white bottle. “Ah ha!” he said in a slightly heightened victory, causing Sam to stir once more. He put his finger to his lips, shushing no one in particular.  He kept his eye on Sam as his fingers opened the bottle with some difficulty, the night’s alcohol effects still wreaking havoc with Dean unaware. Quickly he downed what he poured out in his hand, replacing the cap with a noticeable snap and evoking yet another Sam response. “Damn it, Sammy. Stop moving,” he whispered to himself. Rather than risk the noise, he opted to replace the travel bag and leave the duffle where it laid.

Dean crawled back to his bed, feeling the aspirin taking root in his throat and deciding one more drink will help loosen them. His flask was still in his jacket pocket, so he slowly made his way back to the table, staying on his knees because now it was getting hard to find the strength to rise and was it his imagination or was he starting to feel a little dizzy too? Reaching the chair where he threw his jacket, he opened it to find the flask, sitting up just enough to take the drink he needed as quickly as he could. He shook his head as the chilled liquid burned its ways down his throat, a quiet “ahhh” escaping his lips before he remembered he was trying not to wake his brother.

Now that that was settled, Dean opted to try to stand where he was so he could take the final steps to falling out on his bed. It seemed light years away from the rickety table and the dizzy feeling was adding to his disorientation. Placing both hands on the floor, Dean struggled to stand like an infant preparing to take his first steps. Balancing himself on the uneven table, he worked to keep the effort silent while keeping his sights on Sam, who had still managed to not be too disturbed by Dean’s antics.

Finally he was ready to take those last sneaky steps to the bed, discovering a loose floorboard that made him pause yet again in mid-air, but finally reaching the holy grail of his hotel bed. Putting one knee on the bed to test its squeakiness, Dean allowed himself to finally free fall once he didn’t hear a sound coming from the bed. Falling onto the stiff blanket, he almost as quickly fell into the haze that was rapidly winning its battle to overtake Dean’s conscientiousness. The dizziness seemed to get worse and Dean held his head trying to orient himself and regain a mental foothold on his feeling of stability. “I just wanna go home,” he said to himself, the day’s exhausting events playing out all over again in his mind. The trial. The almost-death at the hands of Jo. The guilt. The talk with Sam. The temporary relief and the return of the guilt in spades. Even Nia couldn’t keep the guilt away for long enough to keep Dean from starting to feel completely hopeless. When he began to succumb to those feelings, the little boy in him would remember his mother and mourn her all over again, wishing she were there to make him tomato rice soup, hug him with that warm, mom hug and remind him that angels were watching over him – even though he had lost respect for them almost as soon as he had discovered they were real.

Truly there was no place like home and now he was once again wishing he could go there, if only for a little while. Times like now he remembered the gift with strings attached that the djinn once gave him and he wonders if he really could have stayed and been happy. All he had was the idea of a mom he had only known for four years, but it was enough. It could be enough if he could have her back just for a little while, even if she did treat him like a child again because that too was all she knew of him before she was heinously taken away.

Dean drifted deeper into sleep, the darkness seeming to swell even more than expected. He gave in to the weight of fatigue. If he couldn’t have his mom, maybe he could have a good night’s sleep that was so deep that he wouldn’t think of anything at all. Maybe he could actually rest and things would be different in the morning. Maybe. But in his intoxicated and weary state, he didn’t realize what he had done. While sneaking around his brother’s bed to get the headache reliever, he didn’t realize just how much alcohol was in his system and just how many pills had joined it. He couldn't have known Sam had slipped a few rouge sleeping pills into the aspirin bottle as well for supposed safe keeping until morning, not thinking Dean would get into them. Dean didn’t know that he had gone a little too far, wiping away not only the headache but his tomorrows as well.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean was tired and just wanted to go home. Wish granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance. I didn't think this part would run so long, but there was no natural place to create a 3rd chapter. So I just hope this isn't painful to get through. But you'll let me know if it is. I would probably sit on this another day, but I had already hoped to have posted this yesterday and I hate to make y'all wait. Plus I need to empty my mind to make room for a new story at some point. Dean and Mary got to talking and they wouldn't stop!

He was paralyzed. He hated that. That really deep sleep you sometimes fall into where your consciousness awakens before the rest of your body, making you aware but unable to move right away. Dean was on his stomach and all he could do for now was stare out of hazy eyes, trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture.  
  
He breathed heavily, a bad taste in his mouth making him want to find a toothbrush and glass of water quickly. But he still couldn’t move. He tried wiggling his fingers and toes. They obeyed. But internally he still struggled to move the rest of him.  He saw the bedside table. Wasn’t there a clock there before?  
Wait. There was a clock, but it was different than he remembered. And did Sam suddenly take up a new hobby or was that a blue toy racecar?  
  
“What the hell?” Dean murmured. He tried raising up a little more, paralysis slowly wearing off. With a grunt he pushed up a little on one side, then rolled over onto his back, his eyes starting to focus a little better. The mattress felt different. Firmer. And the walls. Weren’t they green before? A really ugly green. But this blue felt…familiar.  
  
Lifting his head, Dean looked around. The sun shone brightly in the window at the foot of the bed. He scanned past a shelf on the wall with more toys on it to see the window on the other side.  “Wait a minute,” Dean whispered. He pushed up onto his arms, taking everything in that much clearer. Gasping he sat all the way up, throwing one leg to the floor and twisting back to the other side, expecting to see Sam. But he was not there.  
  
Dean shook his head. “Wooooah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah.” Dean stood up now, the dizziness still apparent. Holding his head, he closed his eyes to steady himself. “I know what I said…but,” Dean sighed. He looked around, turning his full body to take it all in. When he got back to start, he stepped to the foot of the bed and there it was; the racetrack, on the floor like he remembered last time he and Sam were here, running from angels. Putting his hand to his mouth, he carefully stepped past the track. “I caaan’t...,” he started. He walked to the door of the room, looking around one more time and then he heard the soft singing.  
  
 _Hey, Jude, don’t be afraid._  
 _You were made to go out and get her._  
 _The minute you letter her under you skin_  
 _Then you begin to make it better._  
  
“Mom?”  
  
He went to the stairs, the singing growing a little clearer.  “Mom,” he whispered. “I don’t believe it.” He slowly walked down the stairs, one hand on the wall for balance. Ducking and carefully looking like he mght be on an unexpected hunt, he could tell the singing was coming from behind him as he descended the stairs. At the bottom, he looked left, then right. It was home alright. But it was different too.  
  
 _And anytime you feel the pain,_  
 _Hey Jude, refrain,_  
 _Don’t carry the world up on your shoulders._  
 _For well you know that it’s a fool_  
 _Who plays it cool_  
 _By making his world a little colder_  
  
Dean let the singing draw him deeper in, his breaths quick for fear that he was not going to see what he expected…or maybe he would.  
  
 _Hey Jude, don’t let me down._  
  
And then he saw her moving about the kitchen.  
  
 _You have found her, now go and get her._  
  
“Mom?”  
  
Mary gasped, then laughed when she saw it was Dean. “Hey, Jude,” she replied. She gave him her full smile then, so happy to see her first born in front of her. Dean breathed out as he relaxed. It felt safe. She looked good. She looked happy.  
  
“Mom? Is it...”  
  
“Yeah, honey. It’s me. It’s really me.”  
  
“But you’re…where…am I…”  
  
“In heaven, sweetie. You’re in heaven.”  
  
Dean shook his head,  “ohhhh, no no no no no. Mom, I can’t be here…again. Can I?”  
  
Mary stepped to him, stroking his cheek. “It’s ok, baby. It’s all ok. You shouldn’t be here right now, you’re right. But let’s just take a moment, ok?”  
  
Dean looked at her, his sad face making Mary want to keep him with her, but she knew she couldn’t. Still, he needed her right now and heaven had allowed her to be there for him, if only for a little while. Her hand sliding from his cheek to his shoulder, she pulled him in for an embrace and his body instantly remembered who she was. He hugged her back, as tight as he could, his nose finding her hair, inhaling the smell of her shampoo and triggering every little boy instinct he had. He could feel the tears coming already. Why on earth could he not be around her without breaking down?  
  
Earth. He wasn’t on Earth, now was he?  
  
“Mom,” Dean pulled back. “Am I dead?”  
  
Mary made a light sound as her hands rested on his arms. “Just for now, sweetie. Not for good. Not yet. It’s just another one of your little visits up here. You do that a lot you know. You just rarely remember it.”  
  
“But what happened this time,” Dean asked, letting go of Mary and starting to walk around the kitchen, taking it all in. It was just as he remembered in his dreams.  
  
“Well, you were with that Nia girl, you were drinking far too much,” Mary put her hand on one hip. “I could still hit John for allowing you to pick up that nasty habit,” she said shaking her head. Dean cocked his head at her, his brows drawing in confusion.  
  
“You had a headache, hon, you thought you were taking aspirin, but Sam put some sleeping pills in that bottle too and you got them.” She laughed lightly to herself. “He didn’t mean to hurt you though, hon. It was all an accident and he’s going to be beating himself up about that one a little later.”  
  
“Mom,” Dean started, overwhelmed slightly by all the info Mary was throwing his way. He shook his head, remembering what she first said.  “Umm, you…you saw me?” He cleared his throat. “Wi...with Nia?”  
  
Mary smiled. “Oh, honey, I’ve been watching you and your brother ever since I took out that poltergeist and came here.” Dean’s heart swelled at the thought of having had his mother with him all this time, then he flushed as he remembered his tromp with Nia just last night, then all the Nias before her. “Um, exactly how…how much did you see,” Dean asked, his cheeks growing flush as he spoke.  
  
Mary laughed to herself, knowing what her son was thinking. She stroked his downturned head and smiled. “Don’t worry, love. I gave you privacy when you needed it. You and Sam.” She huffed lightly. “Your dad too.”  
  
Dean looked up at the mention of his father. “Dad? Is he here? With you?”  
  
Mary breathed deep and smiled. “Come on, Dean. Let’s sit, huh?”  
  
She ushered him to the dining room table, in particular the seat he always sat in as a young boy. Then she gasped as she suddenly remembered. “Dean! Honey! I have pie! Good timing,” she mused, tapping her chin. “I must have known you were coming, huh?” She went back to the kitchen to get him a slice of peace pie and a glass of milk.  
  
Dean chuckled as she placed it before him. “You gonna put a napkin under my chin too?”  
  
“You want me to,” she replied, with a sly smile that told him not to dare her because she would do it.  
  
“Naw,” he said. “ ‘m good.” He buried his fork into the pie as Mary sat next to him, resting one elbow on the table, her chin in hand as the other stroked Dean’s arm and came to rest on top of his hand. Dean slowly balled his fist so that he captured her fingers, holding her hand in a backward hold.  
  
“So,” Dean began when he had swallowed two forkfuls of the pie. “Dad? Is he here?”  
  
“Yeah, honey,” Mary said softly. “He’s here. We’re having the time of our, well, our deaths, I guess you could say.”  
  
Dean frowned a bit at the mention of death. “It’s ok,” she said. “We’re happy, Dean. We really are.”  
  
“How happy can you be living in Memorex?”  
  
“Well, it’s not quite like that, exactly. It’s not like we’re just standing by and watching the same scene play out over and over, you know. We are in the home we knew together and we kinda have our boys, although not here, not yet. You’re on Earth and we are always watching over you.” She smiled.  
Dean nodded. “Our very own angels, huh?”  
  
“Yup. That’s us.” She sat back, shaking her hair back behind her, and sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. Took a minute for us to get to this happy place. It was just me for the longest time, you know? And I didn’t get to see exactly how your dad was raising you boys or else, trust me, I would have haunted his ass.”  
  
Dean laughed, taking a sip of the milk and going back to his pie as he listened.  
  
“In the beginning, after your father and I, um, caught up again, we talked about you and Sam – a lot. And oh how we talked.” Mary laughed softly as she recalled those early conversations. “See before John arrived, when I was here alone, I came into the full knowledge of what life was like for the three of you without me.” Mary’s eyes got sad. She tucked hair behind one ear, looking down as she remembered. “I found out how difficult it was and I got angry. So angry. How could this be heaven with such a feeling of remorse like this?” She laughed a little. “I even talked to some of the ministers who had made it up here, even though I didn’t really have any connection to any church while I was alive. Your friend Ash had found me, you know? Showed me how to move around, so I could visit anyone I wanted.”  
  
Dean looked up, “Ash? Wow. Of course he found you. Last time I was here, he said he had been looking.”  
  
“Yep,” Mary nodded. “He found me.” She continued. “So I found some ministers and they were telling me that remorse in heaven isn’t a foreign concept since you come into a full understanding of things here and when you do, regret is bound to take hold. And it made sense. So when your dad got here, I was at peace again.”  
  
“Dad found you?”  
  
“Well, this is his heaven too, sweetie. Being here with me. Didn’t take him long to find me.” Mary smiled and let Dean take that in.  
  
“So when he got here,” she went on, “we talked about so many things. And sometimes he said things that made me want to slap him. He had been trying to do so much to avenge my death. So many decisions he made in my name.” Mary shook her head, a grim look on her face. “There were times when what your father decided wasn’t something I would have wanted for you or Sam.”  
  
“I know, mom. You never wanted this life for us…”  
  
“No, no I didn’t. But circumstances can sometimes change our desires. I know that. I can’t say with certainty what I would have done had I lived, Dean. Or if the tables were turned and your father was taken from me and I had to fight this fight alone with my babies in tow….” Mary finished the thought in her head.  
  
“I know John really did the best he could. I do. I still questioned some things though.”  
  
Dean watched her with interest. He had had opportunities to get to know his parents in ways so many people would never experience. But that was learning about the past or the result of some being’s distortion of his mother. This? This was really her in front of him; the Mary who knew everything since that horrible night. The Mary who knew her boys better than they had been aware of, after having spent time with him and Sam from afar, without either of them ever knowing it.  
  
“So John and I, we finally made a life.” She waved her hands about her. “Kind of made the Winchester compound,” she said laughing.  
  
“Compound?” Dean looked around not seeing what she meant.  
  
“Yeah. John and I are here. Kate Miligan isn’t too far away.”  
  
Dean’s eyes went wide. “You know about, Kate…”  
  
Mary shrugged her shoulders.

“Of course you know about, Kate. And you don’t mind?”  
  
“Well, I was gone, Dean. Like I said, I gave you guys your privacy when needed. I can’t blame your dad for being a man, now can I?”  
  
Dean shook his head, glad that his mouth was full of milk in this awkward moment.  
  
“Kate is nearby so she won't be alone. John is with her right now.”  
  
Dean choked on the milk. “Ah, Dean, it’s ok,” Mary said as she got up to get a paper towel. “Really, it’s ok. There’s some perks to being the parents of a couple of world-saving heroes you know,” she said with a smile and a wink. She wiped Dean’s chin, tousling his hair as she went to throw the paper towel away then sat back down.  
  
“Kate doesn’t have her son with her yet. He’s still…” Mary raised her eyebrows as she and Dean looked toward the floor. “Every now and again, John goes with her to petition his release. She knew the angels, Castiel actually, moved heaven and Earth to get to you and Sammy.” Mary sighed again remembering that her sons had actually spent time in the pit. “They’re hoping to free him. They’re trying.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Good. That’s good.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for Michael to get him like that. I was trying to save them both, mom.”  
  
“Hey, hey, angel,” Mary said, leaning forward to take Dean’s hand again. “No one. No one at all is blaming you. Stop blaming yourself.”  
  
Dean got up from the table, looking at Mary. She looked up at her son questioningly.  
  
“Who else is there to blame, mom? It’s my fault.”  
  
“Dean,” Mary said, trying to grab his arm, but he was walking to the living room now.  
  
“Hey now, Dean. Heaven and hell were manipulating us all, but you fought the good fight, as you should. Sometimes you won some, sometimes you lost some. You can’t be the victor every time.”  
  
“I should have tried harder…”  
  
“Dean Winchester,” Mary commanded. “Look at me. Look at me!”  
  
Dean turned as she spoke, not daring to look at her full on. She stepped closer and grabbed his arms to force him to see her. “What happened to Adam was not. your. fault. Do you hear me? You didn’t know what the angels were going to do. You have been trying to do what’s right ever since you carried Sammy out of our burning house. You and Sam have been struggling to be the good guys and they have NOT made it easy for you! Those dicks,” Mary muttered under breath, this time being the one to turn away, shaking off her rising anger.  
  
“You know, when I was pregnant with you,” Mary said, her tone softer now, her arms folded across her chest. “I read a lot of books about raising children. I was an only child, my parents died while I was still young, so I didn’t really have anyone who could pass their wisdom on to me, you know? And one of the things I read was that a child’s personality is pretty much set by the time they are 7.”  
  
She turned back to Dean who was listening with rapt attention. “You didn’t really have a chance, Dean. Your world was burned down before you even got a chance to have a playdate, honey.”  
  
Mary’s arms fell to her side. She cocked her head at her son. “I know, you know.”  
  
Dean eyes narrowed. “You know…what?”  
  
“Why you’re beating yourself up now. I know about the trial and Jo and all the memories Osiris brought up for you. I know about Amy.”  
  
Dean looked down in guilt, feeling caught doing something wrong.  
  
“She was a monster and that’s what hunters do, Dean.”  
  
“But I did it behind Sammy’s back. I know he won’t be happy about it, but I did it for his own good.”  
  
“No need to justify with me, honey. I told you, I understand. Now you need to make him understand.”  
  
Dean shook his head, his lips pursed in thought. “I can’t…”  
  
“You can,” Mary said sternly. “And you will.” She spoke a little softer. “In time. You will.” She stepped toward him to hold his arms again. “You love your brother too much to lie to him, Dean. You know you care what he thinks and believe it or not, he cares what you think too. You really are two peas, you know? Soul mates. That’s not just for lovers, you know,” she said, tilting her head at her son as she smiled up at him.  
  
Dean just looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips.  
  
“I'm so grateful that I got to hold you again, sweetie," Mary said, hugging him again. "But you really need to go back now, son.”  
  
“Go back? I can go back?”  
  
“Like I said. Perks.” Mary linked her arm with Dean’s as she steered him back to the stairs. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”  
  
“Bed? But you said…”  
  
“Bed.”  
  
They walked up the stairs to Dean’s old room. Mary guided him back to his bed, and he sat, looking up at his mom in all the vulnerability and childlike innocence he reserved for her, not quite ready to let her go.  
  
“Don’t worry, angel, you’ll come back,” she whispered as she gently pushed him down to his bed and kissed his forehead. “You get some rest and know that your dad and I are watching over you, ok? You’ll come back, Dean. You’ll come back when it’s time and we’ll be a family again.”  
  
Dean closed his eyes, letting her voice usher him into a need for slumber that suddenly seemed to come out of nowhere. “You’ll come back,” he heard her say again.  
  
“Come back,” Dean whispered.  
  
“Dean, please. Come back, man. Wake up!” Sam was anxiously standing over his brother, shaking him. “Dean! Dean!”  
  
At Sam’s voice, Dean awoke from his confusion. Sam stepped back, his hands in his hair. “Oh my God! Dean!” He rushed back to his dazed brother. “Dean, are you ok?” Sam felt Dean’s forehead, looking for a temperature. He felt Dean’s pulse and as he snapped out of it, Dean smacked Sam’s hand away.  
  
“Dude. What happened,” Dean asked, sitting up a little too fast. Sam steadied him.  
  
“Careful man,” Sam said still taking deep breaths as his heart finally slowed to a normal pace. “Dean man, you were gone,” Sam said, spreading his hands like an umpire calling safe. “I got up to go to the bathroom and almost tripped over my duffle, then I realized you were back and when I was walking to the bathroom, something about you didn’t sound right. Like, you weren’t making any sounds at all.”  
  
Sam dropped to his bed in front of Dean. “Dude. I thought you were dead, but I wasn’t sure, you know? Good thing we keep adrenaline on us. I gave it to you and kept trying to revive you. Took me 7 minutes, Dean. I thought you were a goner for sure. You’d be brain dead.”  
  
“Yeah well takes more than…than. Wait, what did I do?" Dean grasped the edge of the bed, looking out the still dark window, trying to remember. Sam raised his eyebrows as he wondered too.  
  
“The pills,” Dean recalled. “I took the aspirin and…”  
  
“Aspirin?” Sam said, following Dean’s eyes to his duffle. Sam’s eyes went wide as he understood.  
  
“Ohhh, no, no, no, Dean. Did you…,” he asked snapping back to look at Dean.  
  
Dean just looked at him as an answer.  
  
“Aw, man!” Sam exclaimed, rushing to the bag to get to the pill bottle. “Dean, damn it, man. I’m SO sorry! I...I thought I was putting those sleeping pills in a safe place…”  
  
“Because headaches happen so rarely?”  
  
“Yes! I mean no! I mean…,” Sam stammered. “It’s just I thought I could find a new bottle to put them in in the morning.” Sam was on his knees counting the pills out in his hand.  
  
Dean smiled, not quite sure why, but not feeling as mad about it as he thought he should be. He had a weird feeling like he had been talking to someone about this very thing, but he couldn’t fully bring it back to the front of his mind. He went over to Sam, kneeling by him as he gently took the pills from Sam and put them back in the bottle.”  
  
“Sam, it’s ok. You didn’t do it on purpose. I’m the idiot who wasn’t watching what I was doing.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam started.  
  
“No, it’s ok. Really. I’m ok. I’m here, alright? With you. Where I belong.”  
  
Sam sighed, his shoulders dropping as he stopped fighting his guilt and looked at Dean. “Thank God.”  
  
Dean smiled and tousled Sam’s hair. He wasn’t sure who to thank, the feeling of wanting to be home with his mom starting to recede in his memory, replaced by the feeling of being glad to be home with Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like my end note from the previous chapter found its ways here, so here's hoping a new one will replace it. Time to think happier thoughts for my beloved Dean!


	3. 7 Minutes in Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done with this, but this chapter was the request of a reader over on FF.net and I'm grateful because I wouldn't have thought to continue otherwise. I took the week to write it and tweak it and tweak it and tweak it. Can never seem to stop tweaking. By the 5th night, I found myself channeling Chuck – mostly paraphrasing, of course. “Endings are hard. Anyone can poop out a beginning. Endings are impossible.” That’s how I felt until it dawned on me to let Dean inspire me. So finally I can share one more little chapter with you all - the last chapter - and I thank you for helping to keep my muse charged up and ready to go (so far)!

The need to pee pulled Sam from a rare deep sleep. He was exhausted after not just trying to save the lives of strangers, but his brother’s as well. And after his talk with his brother, before Dean went off to meet that blonde bartender, Sam was emotionally exhausted too. True, they didn’t go quite that deep in their discussion. You could never just dive into these things when it came to his guarded sibling. Still, Dean _had_ allowed Sam to at least wade into the murky waters of his troubled psyche, which could prove dangerous if you weren’t careful.

So when Dean left, Sam was relieved. He hoped his troubled brother was in a better place than where he started that day. Sam knew that Bartender Girl could help Dean further forget what plagued him, at least for awhile. Sam could rest knowing his brother was being taken care of in some of his favorite ways. So there was no need to wonder where his pleasure-loving brother was or what he was doing. Yeah, Sam was a worrier too.

Tonight, Sam was able to get something to eat and sleep the sleep of the dead if he wanted. And he did just that, taking a relaxing shower before he turned in at the ripe old hour of 11:15 p.m. He knew it would be hours before Dean came back – if he came back at all – and Sam would be in la la land by then.

Time did not cater to Sam’s desires for rest, however. The next thing he knew, it was 4:39 a.m. and damn it! He hated it when his rest was disturbed so close to dawn. He wanted to at least pretend like there was still time before Dean would be intentionally stomping around, getting things ready to depart while trying to indirectly wake his slumbering brother. But Sam wasn’t paying attention to the time when he had that last bottle of water. It had made its way through his system and was now demanding release.

Sam sighed as he shifted in bed so he could toss his feet on the floor, wanting to hurry up and get back under the covers before he was fully awake. He was aware enough to be careful of the duffle he left on the side of the bed and sat in slight, half-eyed confusion as his feet sought the boundaries in which he could safely walk. They found nothing. Assuming he had left the bag further away than he thought, Sam pushed up off the bed and began his shuffle to the bathroom. Five steps in, he had found his missing boundary.

“Ow! Shit,” he uttered to himself as he stubbed his toe, most likely on a heavy weapon inside. Instinctively he tried not to wake…who exactly? Dean was probably not even…oh wait. He _was_ in. Forced to open his eyes a little further, Sam peered into the darkness to make sure the brother-shaped lump in the bed next to his was in fact who it was supposed to be. They were hunters, after all. Can’t be too careful about these things.

As Sam tried to focus, his feet felt for a way around the duffle until Sam was satisfied that he was in fact staring at his brother. He could then give some thought to the mysteriously shifting duffle bag. He looked down at the bag and back at where he thought he had left it when he went to bed, the nature of their work always making him think twice about anything that seemed remotely unexpected. You couldn’t take anything for granted when it came to the world of the spirits. But as far as he knew, there was no one who would be trying to get his attention by tripping him up in the middle of the night. At least he didn’t think so.

Sam knitted his brows at the annoying obstacle, fully stepping over the bag to resume shuffling to the bathroom on the other side of the opposite bed. As he rubbed his eyes to prevent stubbing his toes on anything Dean might have dropped in his own wake to bed, Sam looked over again at his brother as he attempted to sneak past. He figured Dean had probably picked up where he left off drinking with Bartender Girl, so Sam could have blown the horn of Gabriel and not caused a stir in big bro. He snickered at the thought, noticing that Dean was only missing his jacket, so he must have been three sheets to the wind when he came in. Dean was on his stomach, facing the bathroom, and Sam assumed there would be a symphony of snoring by now, making Dean oblivious to Sam’s nighttime stumbling.

But he didn’t hear a sound.

As Sam shuffled further around the bed, his attention growing more alert and his eyes glued to his brother’s back, Sam realized he wasn’t hearing anything at all – no snores, no grunts, no silent-but-deadly nose bombs. Stepping into the bathroom door, Sam stood, his head cocked, watching his brother, listening for the familiar sounds of a hangover in the making. The streetlights had snuck in through the closed blinds, casting strips of light onto Dean’s steady back. Like the parent of a newborn watching for the slow breaths of their infant, Sam squinted into the darkness waiting for movement. When he saw nothing, he risked waking Dean by turning on the bathroom light to get a better view.

He waited, hand on the switch, counting to himself in the glow of the bathroom light.

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand between their beds and he waited, noticing the rhythm of his own breathing, expecting it to skip a beat in time with Dean’s once he finally saw it.

He waited, but Dean was still. Too still.

“Dean?” Sam whispered, bracing for possible backlash because he dared to wake the bear. There was nothing.

He cleared his scratchy throat and tried again, a little louder. “Dean.”

Sam’s own breaths were becoming quick as he waited for his brother to do anything at all that proved to Sam that he was only sleeping – a soundless, breathless, comatose sleep, yes, but only sleeping. He glanced at the clock again and began to pant a little as he saw it had been a minute already since he last checked the time.

Rushing to the bed, Sam knelt down to look into his brother’s face, the color paler and his features more languid than they should be. Gingerly, Sam reached out to lay his hand on Dean’s back. He had hoped to feel the life he wasn’t seeing, then began to shake his brother when that too failed to happen. “Dean, man, wake up.” Sam shook harder and moved closer, slipping his other hand under his brother in a full-on attempt to rouse the sleeping man. There was silence.

“No, no, no, no, no” Sam said, leaping up from the floor to run to Dean’s other side where he could better roll the unconscious man over to his back to assess the situation. “Dean! Dean, can you hear me?” Osiris couldn’t have won after all, could he? Sam snatched his brother up to take off his twisted shirt. Pushing Dean back down to the center of the bed, Sam ran back to the other side to pull him further over and up so that he was flat on his back, his arms at his sides. Sam reached down to feel for a pulse, his heart racing at the touch of the cool skin.

“Oh no.” There was no pulse.

Sam reached over to place two fingers on the carotid artery under Dean’s neck to try again. There was no beat.

“Damn it!” he huffed. He wasted no time turning on the room’s overhead light so he could get back to his brother’s side. He straightened Dean’s head, continuously calling his name.

“Dean! Dean, please answer me, man!” Sam tilted the heavy head.

“Dean, come on. Are you in there? I need a sign!” He opened Dean’s mouth to see if anything was in his throat. Only last night’s alcoholfest greeted him.

“OK man, I’m here, ok? I’m here.” Covering rough lips with his own, Sam blew into his lungs, hurrying to get into chest-compression position.

“It’s gonna be alright, ok?” He pressed and prayed to every god and angel he knew.

“Please, Dean,” Sam whimpered as the heel of his hand made contact with the lifeless chest. “Please.”

Another round of CPR.

He breathed and compressed and compressed and breathed until it seemed to be no point. It was as if it was his destiny to repeatedly lose his brother in as many devastating ways as possible. It was as if he was meant to be alone.

Standing up, at a temporary loss for what else to do, Sam pulled his fingers through his hair. All the spells they ever cast. All the conjuring they knew of and the power that Sam himself has had, it all seemed but vestigial knowledge now. None of it was bringing his brother back to him. Eyeing the clock, Sam noticed the time yet again. Two more minutes had passed and while he wasn’t sure how long Dean had been in this state – it was just a state right? – Sam knew he didn’t have long to bring him back.

Remembering the adrenaline they always carried, Sam located his duffle again. Running to the bag, he fell to his knees before it, in an almost prayer hoping that he had remembered to bring the injectable medication. “Come on,” he urged the bag before uncovering the special case where he kept the pre-dosed needle. “Yes!” he exclaimed, rushing back to Dean’s side. Administering adrenaline was no cake walk, something you only pulled out in extreme circumstances, but this was as extreme as they came, was it not?

Not wanting to waste any time removing Dean’s jeans, Sam inserted the needle directly into the muscle of the immobile thigh, taking care to make sure the injection was complete before slowly drawing back. Giving another round of CPR to help the medicine do its job, Sam pleaded with his brother to fight his way back to him.

_100 deaths at the hands of the Trickster. Could this be how it would end?_

“Dean, come on. This isn’t funny.” Sam could feel the hope start to drain and his eyes start to blur.

_All that time in hell suffering at the hands of demons who did God only knows what kind of torture that Dean never would fully disclose. And now their time together was done?_

“Come back,” Sam whispered, resting his head against his brother as he once again took note of the time. Nearly seven minutes. Wasn’t there something about that number? It wasn’t too late, was it? He felt the fight in him start to give him one last charge.

_Even Fate had tried to take them out with some insulting kitchen explosion on some warped timeline they didn’t belong in. It didn’t work, damn her!_

Revved by his internal drive, Sam shook off his growing grief. He stood over his brother, blowing the breath of life once more, determined compressions sank into Dean’s chest.

“Come back,” he summoned. “Dean, please. Come back to me, man. Wake up! Wake up, damn you!” Sam’s anxiety was taking over. He began to shake his brother. “Dean! Dean!” and then he felt it. Dean lurched in his hands. A lifetime of close calls and downright misses washed away by the hunter’s restorative breath. Stepping back, Sam grabbed his head, his world shifting back on its axis. His heart slowing back to normal. His brother returning to his side.

Sam blew a breath of relief as his phoenix rose again. His appreciation for his dad-appointed guardian was never clearer than when he was suddenly standing alone. And in those times, he would feel the eternal despair that followed them like a ghost, haunting their every loss and never-ending battle. Sam was grateful, maybe a little selfish. Yeah, sure he knew he could do this alone if he had to, but he didn’t want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again! Really had fun with this one!

**Author's Note:**

> Thus ends this brief chapter 1, which didn't feel so brief when I wrote it, but the ending felt natural here. This will most likely just be a two-chapter work, and that will be up before too long. I edited this a tad afterward because I still wasn't convinced ODing on aspirin was enough to do damage so I added a bit to the bottle. Thanks for reading!


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